


atlas

by reptilezoo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, it's trauma processing charlie brown!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reptilezoo/pseuds/reptilezoo
Summary: “I think...I would like it if you addressed me as the Inquisitor less."The title of Herald of Andraste would weigh heavy on any shoulders. Ellas Lavellan is starting to suffocate under it.





	atlas

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I sure have not posted any of my writing here in uhhhhhhhh a year and a half? Anyway hi I've been playing Inquisition for the first time and I'm in my feelings about it (especially Dorian my wiiife) so I did in fact write an entire postgame fic while only maybe a third of the way into the actual game, in tyool 2018

“Something’s on your mind,” Dorian said. Ellas turned back from the balcony to him, reclined on the couch. His body language was relaxed, not confrontational in the least, but it was a statement, not a question. Ellas looked back over the stone railing. The night air was crisp and still. Somewhere down in Skyhold, the smell of burning pine was drifting upward.

“I think...I would like it if you addressed me as the Inquisitor less,” the elf replied, as neutrally as possible. His fingers knotted together, dancing in anxiety as Dorian swung his legs down off the loveseat and joined him out on the balcony.

“I can do that. Any reason for the change?” Dorian queried, voice gentle. “Too impersonal? I thought you might...enjoy me paying you a little deference now and then,” he purred into the elf’s ear. Ellas shied away from the touch, and shook his head silently.

“It’s not that,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t feel like me anymore.” Dorian cocked his head slightly, folded his arms and leaned back against the parapet.

“Why not? You’re still the same person who sealed the Breach. Led us out of certain death. Changed the world. Et cetera.”

Ellas’ face tightened. “I don’t know if that’s true anymore, Dorian.” A beat passed as he considered his words. “I feel like I spent an entire lifetime being the Inquisitor. Saving the world. And now, it. Mm. It’s changed something.” He pressed his knuckles to his mouth.

He drew a long, thin breath. “Remember how a bit ago I went on a trip, sailed up to the Free Marches. Said I wanted to get away, have some time to myself? Some of my clan were there, waiting at the docks to meet me. A welcome home party, for the prodigal son of Lavellan.” Ellas’ voice broke. “I grew up with them. They smiled and cried and took me in their arms as soon as I stepped off the boat. And - and I saw strangers in their faces.” He drew inward, arms folding around himself like a plant withering up to die. “I couldn’t go home. It’s not there anymore.”

“Inqui - Ellas,” Dorian murmured, reaching his side and pulling him in close. Ellas didn’t resist this time. He let himself go limp in Dorian’s arms, pressed his face into the clean fabric of his shirt. “We’ve all changed. Anyone in the Inner Circle would say it was for the better.” He placed his hands under the elf’s jaw, tilted his head back. “The Inquisition saved me, personally. You saved me.” Dorian ran a thumb along the wine-colored lines tattooed on Ellas’ face. Ellas tilted his head against Dorian’s hand, but he avoided eye contact.

“I feel like I’m living in someone else’s house, all the time,” he mumbled. “Skyhold is the Inquisition’s mausoleum.”

Dorian’s brows knit slightly. “And there’s nothing good for you, here in Skyhold? No fond associations or memories left?” There was something between irritation and genuine hurt in his voice. “You’re not enjoying anything here anymore?”

Ellas shrunk at his words. “It’s not that,” he managed, pulling back. “The people here - you, most of all - I still treasure, but sometimes it feels like something of me is buried in these stones. And I’m not going to get it back.” He turned and passed through the doors back into his quarters, taking a seat on the foot of his bed. Ellas dug his hands through his hair. “Dorian, I love you. I cannot imagine a life away from your side anymore. And if I keep living here the Inquisitor is going to haunt me forever.”

Dorian’s face remained chilly, but he took a few steps closer to Ellas, met his gaze. “I was there too,” he said. “Every step of the way since I joined. The fighting. The, ah, near-death experiences, plural. You know you can actually talk to me about this?”

Despite himself, Ellas let out a tiny dry laugh, and buried his face in his forearms. Dorian scowled. “I must have missed the joke.” The elf shook his head weakly.

“It’s not - it’s not funny, I’m sorry,” he said, not looking up. “I don’t know how to talk about it. I want to. I wanted to. And the thing is I did, almost, once. I thought, maybe I’ll talk to the mind reader. The one who’s here to help.” Ellas rubbed at his face, and Dorian realized he’d been holding back tears. “But Cole can’t take on all this weight. The Herald of Andraste carried the whole world on his back, and now I don’t know how to get out from under the weight of it. I can’t make anyone else take my place. Couldn’t if I wanted to,” and here he gestured to his left hand, infested with Fade magic like rot. Dorian tentatively approached him, joined Ellas’ side on the bed like he’s trying not to scare away a wild animal.

Ellas’ eyes kept watering. He smiled while he spoke, he didn’t know what else to do with himself. “I was just some Dalish mage out in the fucking woods. And then Andraste _gifted_ me with the Anchor. And then all of a sudden people are addressing me as Your Worship, and I’m just...smiling and standing tall while people come to me and lay the whole political power balance of Thedas at my feet. Whole time, I can’t do anything more than play humble when I get asked if I believe I’m really chosen by a higher power.” Dorian, lost for words at this, squeezed his hand in a silent brush of affection. Ellas lightly returned the gesture, then delicately drew his fingers from Dorian’s and ran his fluttering hands back over his face.

He stared at the floor from between his fingers. “My hair was falling out a bit for a little while, you know.” There was a thin, joyless laugh that cut in and out of his wavering voice. “Right up at the end when everything was coming to a head, and Corypheus was bearing down on us for the last time. I didn’t tell anyone. Just kept all my hair tied back and hoped it wouldn’t start to show.” He kept his gaze trained hard on the cobblestones. He couldn’t bear to see Dorian’s face twist.

“Cole was the only one who knew. You can’t keep anything from him, you know? I had to beg him not to tell you, though. Some mind reader.” He was rambling. He felt a hand tentatively touch his shoulder, and an arm followed it, curling around him.

“After everything we had been through...Could you not trust me? With any of this?” The elf shook his head hard.

“It’s not about trust, Dorian. I was - I still am the golden boy of the Inquisition.” Arms slumping, he permitted himself to turn and press back into Dorian’s embrace. “The more people believed I’m the Herald, the more faith was put in me that I was divine...the less time I had to be mortal. And now that I actually followed through and saved the world, I can’t take the mantle off anymore.”

Dorian pressed his face into Ellas’ hair, breathed in the low woodsy smell. “I’m not unfamiliar with social pressure torture, you know,” he murmured. “Granted, I imagine Tevinter didn’t quite put the same squeeze on me that the Inquisition did you, but. All the same.” Ellas leaned his head to the side, allowing himself to accept the touch. His fingers drifted up to delicately wander along the cool gold adorning Dorian’s hands.

“It’s not just that. You, Cassandra, Bull...the whole Inner Circle, I trust you all with my life and more, but I was so afraid to let any cracks show. I couldn’t force any of you to shoulder that burden.”

Dorian’s fingers worked around Ellas’ and gripped them hard. “You think very highly of yourself if you think you can force me into anything, sir,” he said quietly. Ellas’ eyes flickered to his, gold glinting cautiously. Dorian’s hand moved from Ellas’ shoulder to the nape of his neck, gripping him firmly.

“Maybe I don’t know what it’s like to carry the Anchor’s weight. But I know a thing or two about being afraid to open up, and to feel like the eyes will never come off you. You have carried me through so much more than I could ask of anyone, and you will let me do the same for you, so help me,” he said, face twisting into a smirk despite himself. Dorian pulled Ellas’ face to his, kissed him light and gentle.

“And if that means leaving Skyhold someday...well. I spent a long time following you when you were Inquisitor. It’s become a bit of a habit being by your side.”


End file.
